One Moment
by Karevsanatomy
Summary: Each moment, each decision defines life. It defines who a person is, who that person becomes. Pairings:Gizzie, Lexize, MerDer, MerMark, Gallie, MerFinn, Burktina, and more...Harsh language, graphic sexual content. Mature readers only.
1. Author's Note

Author's Note

Before posting this fanfiction, I wanted to give inspirational credit where it is due. My cousin Robyn and I discuss the many crossroads we have both come to throughout our lives almost on a daily basis. We also have this fixation with What If's. Silly passtime considering we're both in our twenties and have college degrees. Watching movies like the Butterfly Effect just feeds our little fixation. It was during one of our What If discussions that we approached the idea of using the Butterfly Effect as a basis for a fanfiction. Not just any fanfiction, a Grey's Anatomy Fanfiction. While I am sure there are other fics out there that involve this same concept, I haven't seen or read any. I hope everyone enjoys the tale I am about to unfold. All thoughts are appreciated. Even the negative ones. Thank you for taking the time to read.


	2. Part One: A Lifetime Of Regrets

"_I want to live my life so my nights are not full of regrets."_

D.H. Lawrence (British Poet 1885-1930)


	3. Final Goodbye

Chapter One

Final Goodbye

A cold blistering wind cuts through the black cashmere coat of the woman standing at the edge of the cemetary. Her blonde hair was scrapped back into a tight bun, and her dark red mouth was pressed into a thin line. A single red rose was clutched in her gloved hands. The gloves, like everything else she wore, were black. It was a day to wear black. Another person in her life had died. Albeit a person she hadn't seen in years. Twenty years to be exact. Twenty long, lonely years.

Small bits of the ministers words drifted over as another gust of wind blows. "..loving father and husband...will be missed..." The woman stiffens a bit, her dark gaze shifts from the minister to the widow, whose shoulders were stooped over as she sobbed. A tall boy stood next to her. A seventeen year old version of his father. The woman didn't have to see his face to know that. The thirteen year old girl cuddled against her mother's side also bore a striking resemblence to her father. The striken looks on their faces credited the minister's words as truth.

The service didn't last long. It was over before it even began. One by one, the mourners filed by the yawning dark hole in the ground, each scooping a handful of dirt to trickle into the grave. The woman looks at the rose in her hand. If she was stronger, braver, she would join them. So many of their lives had been ruined because of her.

Lowering her head as a familiar woman passes, she continues to stare at the rose. What had possessed her to buy it, she doesn't know. The bloom was perfect, blood red in color, almost the exact shade of her lipstick. A single tear drips onto the bloom. She hadn't known she was crying, yet she must be. When she finally has the nerve to look up the cemetary is empty, except for the groundskeepers shoveling dirt into the grave. Her body jerks with each thump as earth covers the coffin.

Not caring that her heels were sinking into the ground, she makes her way toward them. "Would you mind?" She rubs a finger over the velvety petals, smiling sadly. One of the groundskeepers motions for her to do what she needs to do. "Good-bye Alex," she whisphers, pressing a kiss to the bloom before throwing it into the hole. With tears blurring her vision, Isobel Stevens turns her back and walks away from Alex Karev for the last time.


	4. The Loneliness Creeps In

Chapter Two

The Loneliness Creeps In

The house was everything a person could want. Set in one Seattle's finest neighborhoods, it stood three stories tall, a wonder of glass and stone. Beautiful to look at, but cold and empty. It suited Isobel quite perfectly. She wasn't sure when she had stopped being Izzie. Perhaps it had been the night she destroyed George's marriage. She had been sitting in Joe's, drinking, feeling alone and sorry for herself. It had seemed as though everyone had someone. Everyone but her. She was alone. Until George had walked in. It had taken him four shots of tequila before he would talk to her. Then it had all spilled out. His fear that she was right, that he had jumped into marriage to quickly. A disapproving father in law had been the real cause of his anxiety, not some fear that he had made a mistake. If she had been a real friend, she would have known that. Instead, she had been selfish. They had gone through two bottles of tequila and talked trash about commintment before leaving. It had been a quick fuck in the back seat of his car. Lasting a grand total of four minutes. Afterwards, when had been laying on her naked, her only thought had been George had come to his senses. There had been thoughts about the repurcussions, or what it was it going to do to their friendship. Those came the next day.

Isobel steps into the dark interior of the house, laying her keys on the white marbel topped table to her left. Slowly, one finger at a time, she peels the gloves off, laying them next to the keys. The coat was next. Carefully removed from her slender body and hung neatly in the closet next to the table. One had to look closely to find the closet. The door was made look like part of the wall. A trick to fool people into thinking nothing was there. So similar to her life.

She walks down the hall, her heels clicking on the blond hardwood floor. The clicks sounded almost like gunshots. She pauses in the archway to the livingroom. Like the rest of the house, it was done in all white. Cold and uninviting. Again, she thinks about how similar her home is to her life. It isn't a pleasant realization. Realizing she was cold, empty, and alone. Her eyes start to burn. Stumbling to the sofa, she sits on the edge of it, burying her face in her hands. The tears won't come, though. Just dry, wracking sobs. She allows herself this moment of self pity. There is no one to see, no one to judge. Which was the point really. There was no one. She had no one. And there wasn't anyone to blame but herself.

As suddenly as the weakness had come, it was gone. She straighten's her body, squaring her shoulders back. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she lets it out slowly. There was still a trace of weakness, burning her with questions of where the others were. She had seen them all at the cemetary. All but Derek Shepherd. No suprize that he hadn't been there. Nobody had seen him years. Not since the night of Kelly Daniels death...

"_Dr. Shepherd? She's bleeding out." Alex looked up, frowning behind his mask. He had packed as much gauze as he could. They had to find the source of the bleeding. "Dr. Shepherd!" _

_Derek doesn't seem to hear him. There is a far off look in his blood shot eyes. "Baby girl. Seven pounds. Nine ounces. Spitting image of her mother." His tone was bitter. He looks over at Alex. "They named her Ellis. Ellis Sloan." _

_Alex looks across the operating table, where Izzie stands. "What the hell is talking about?" _

_Izzie frowns, shaking her head. "Meredith had her baby today." _

"_Yeah. So. He wants to congratulate them, he can do it later. This patient is going to die if we don't get the bleeding to stop. Now!" He looks at Derek again. "Dr. Shepherd..." His voice trails off as the patients heart rate starts to plummet. "Dammit! Shepherd, either get your head out of your ass and do something, or have them page someone who can!" _

Derek had refused to page someone else. The patient was his. He would save her. In the end, the only thing he did was kill her. It wasn't until later on, when the family sued, that his problem surfaced. It had started the night Meredith left him. There had been an arguement. One of her ex-lovers had shown up, wanting to pick up where they had left off in Boston. It was more than Derek could take. The life Meredith had led before him was more than he could handle. The things he had said to her...

"_I didn't know he was coming!" Meredith yells, her cheeks flushed. Her lipstick was still smudged from where Dominic had kissed her. She hadn't wanted or asked for the kiss. The moment she opened the door, his arms had been around her, his mouth covering her's. _

"_You invited him!" Derek yells back, rubbing his hands through his hair. Bits of the dark tresses stood on end, giving him a wild look. "Don't say you didn't. I heard him. You invited him to Seattle. To fuck!" _

_Meredith shakes her head, tears pouring down her cheeks. "No!. Yes. Maybe. I don't remember. I haven't seen him in so long...I might have invited him. If I did, it was before I met you!" _

She hadn't meant to listen in on the arguement. To hear Derek calling Meredith a whore. It had been the same night she had let George fuck her. She opened the front door, needing to shower. Needing to feel clean again, instead of like a dirty whore. That was what she heard when she walked in. Dirty whore. The words had been meant for Meredith. They applied to her, though. She was a dirty whore. Meredith had screamed for him to get out. To get out of her house. To get out of her life. Derek had shoved past her, not seeing her, in his rush to exit. Meredith had needed her that night. Needed her to be a friend...

"_Can you believe him?" Meredith sinks onto the bottom step, wiping tears from her face. She shakes her head, sniffling a bit. _

_Izzie frowns. "Yeah. Actually I can. What else is he suppose to think? That's what they call women who sleep with other women's husands." The words fell off her tongue. They weren't meant for Meredith. They were meant for herself. _

She had lost two friends that night. George and Meredith. A double blow. Triple really, when the next day Cristina shunned her as well. The only person who had been willing to talk to her, to be her friend, had been Alex. In typical Izzie fashion, she had thrown his friendship in his face. He had tried again, several times, eventually giving up. Thus sealing her fate. A life of loneliness and regrets.


	5. Life's Biggest Regrets

Chapter Three

Life's Biggest Regrets

It was a secret shame, her having to discuss her life with a psychiatrist. It would give her co-workers a perverse pleasure to learn that Dr. Isobel "The Ice Queen" Stevens had to pay someone to to listen to her problems because she had no friends. She usually tried to keep her sessions with Dr. Hennessy short and impersonal. The whole purpose of visiting with him was because, sadly, it gave her a false sense of having at least one friend in this world. For whatever reason, she had let loose today. Spilling all her dark secrets.

"Did you love him?" The forty something man asked. He was of average build, with average brown hair, average blue eyes, and average features. Average was exactly what he was. Nothing inspiring there. Just an average man, who was paid seventy five dollars an hour to be her "friend."

Isobel crosses her legs, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkly in the crisp white trousers. The white suit was a far cry from the black one she had worn a few days before. Her hair was scrapped back in the same fashion, though. "Did I love who?"

Dr. Hennessy looks at her over the rims of his glasses. "Don't play coy. It doesn't suit you." They both knew he was referring to Alex. She had hoped to avoid that subject. She should have known that wouldn't be possible. Either that, or never told him about the funeral in the first place.

"I don't know. We had a rather...complicated...relationship." She frowns, twisting the diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist. There really had been no relationship. Not in the normal sense of the word. Alex and her had never been able to get it right. Something, or someone, always stopped them from being together...

_Izzie sits alone in a corner booth of Joe's. Across the bar, she can hear Meredith toasting Alex and Amanda. Amanda. That was her name. Alex's Jane Doe. Over the course of her healing, they had fallen in love. The day she had been released from the hospital was the day Alex had proposed to her. It had been the talk of the hospital. The way Dr. Karev had gotten down on one knee, asking the patient he had tended so faithfully to become his wife. Sadly, it was that same day that Izzie realized she wanted him in her life. Not as just a friend, but something more. She had been so consumed in her self loathing and pity she hadn't even noticed there was a race for Alex's heart until someone else beat her to the finish line..._

"I see. What about your other friend. The one whose marriage you ruined?" Another mistake she had made. Telling him about George.

She takes a breath, then lets it out with a sigh. Had she loved George? Now there was something to think on. George had meant the world to her. He was the one person she had known she could count on. She supposed that was love. "Yes. I loved George. Not in a romantic sort of way. It was more..." More what? It hadn't been a sibling love. Siblings didn't have sex in the backseats of little Toyota's. It hadn't been unrequitted or undying. It had just been. "I loved him. He was my friend." A familiar burning starts in her eyes. Damned tears. They seemed to come on whim anymore. Before news of Alex's death, she hadn't cried in seventeen years. "He was my friend, and I loved him. There. Are you happy. You made me cry."

Dr. Hennesy slides a box of tissues across the low table that sat between them. She tugs several out, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. The last thing she wanted was a mess of eye make up. Isobel wasn't the sort of woman to been seen in public looking a mess. "Did you ever tell George that you loved him?"

Isobel shakes her head. "I don't recall." It was a lie. She had told George that she loved him once.

"_I love you, doesn't that count for something?' Izzie cries. George's back was to her. It had been two days since the "incident." They had spoken no more than a few words to each other. Until today. When he had told her they were no longer friends._

"_I can't do this Izzie! I can't deal with...with you! Don't you get it? I love Callie! I love her! She's my wife. And...I cheated on her. I cheated on my wife. With you." He was repeating their actions outloud in an almost stunned voice. His face was haggard, and there was a striken look in his eyes. "I didn't need you to tell me what a mistake my marriage was. I needed you to be my friend." He starts toward the locker room door._

"_I am your friend!" She sobs, hurrying to block the door. Her body leans against it, tears streaming down her face. "We made a mistake. We can get past it!" _

_George shakes his head. "No. No we can't. I told Callie. I had to. Do you know what she did? She laughed. Said you got your way. You succeeded in breaking us up." His voice catches. "I love her, Izzie! I love her the way you loved Denny. Why couldn't you just be happy for me? I was happy for you. I hated Denny. I hated the person he was turning you into. I didn't say anything, because you were my friend and I wanted you to be happy." None to gently, he moves her aside, yanking the locker room door open. _

_Sobbing, Izzie slides to the floor, burying her face in her upraised knees. When a hand is laid on her shoulder, she experiences a moment of relief. George had come back. He had changed his mind. They could still be friends. They could get passed what they had done. When she raises her head, though, it was Alex crouched next to her..._

"Don't lie. I see through lies. It's my job." Dr. Hennessy stares at her. She wondered what he saw. Did he see the woman she projected? The saavy plastic surgeon who was spoken of in the highest medical circles. Or did he see the broken, lonely woman she had buried deep inside? Most likely he seen them both. The quick glance at his watch told her their time was almost up. Her paid for friendship would soon be coming to an end. Until this time next week. Maybe she should up her time to twice a week. She needed the extra false sense of security right now.

He takes a note pad out. "I'm going to give you an assignment. I expect it to be completed by our next session." He writes something on the paper, the tears the sheet of the pad, before handing it to her. "And Isobel, don't tell me you don't have any. We all have them."

Isobel frowns, confused by his statement. She looks down at the paper in front of her. 'What are you biggest regrets in life?' She frowns. "Are you serious?"

"Quite serious. If we're ever going to get anywhere, you have to face your regrets. Accept them." He reaches into a drawer, pulling out a slim journal. "I want you write what your regrets are in here. I also want you to explain why you have that regret and, if you could change it, how would you change it."

The journal is pressed into her hands. The moment her fingers touch the smooth brown leather binding, they start to tingle. For a moment, she had the oddest sensation that the book would change her life, which was ridiculous. It was just a book. One that would soon be filled with regrets.


	6. Haunted

Chapter Four

Haunted

It was one of those nights. The kind where the wind howled, rustling through the trees, whistling past buildings, rattling windows. The sort of night where memories could creep in. The sort of night, where a person lay in bed, letting the memories haunt them. Isobel was no exception. She lay there, listening to the wind batter the outdoors, trying to think on anything but the past. She blamed the damned journal more than she blamed the night. When Dr. Hennessy had first handed it to her, her first instict had been to throw it away. Instead, she had brought the slender brown book home, carried it to her bedroom, and left it on her desk. She had no intention of following through with the assignment. Her regrets were her's, to do with as she pleased. What pleased her was burying them in the back of her mind, hidden from in the darkest recess of her memory. To write them down would bring them to the surface. As long as the regrets and what might have beens stayed buried, she was free to live in denial. She liked denial. In denial, her life was everything she wanted it to be. It was complete.

'Is it? Is it really complete?' A frown mars her face, wrinkling her brow. The fact that it wrinkled at all told her it was time to visit Dr. Joel again, get injected with poison that kept her face frozen in beauty. That was what she had become. The sort of woman who let her career become her life, and gritted her teeth while some over paid plastic surgeon injected a mixture of chemicals and botulism into her face. A slight smile lifts the corners of her mouth. How Alex and her use to make fun of those women...

_"Look at that one?" Alex whisphered, nodding to the leggy redhead. Breasts that were too large and too perky to be real spilled out of her second glove halter top and lips that were too pouty shimmered with an extra thick coat of gloss. "Twenty bucks says she's here to get her lips injected again." _

_Izzie laughs, rolling her eyes. It was a silly bet. One she would lose. Alex had a knack for calling what a patient was in for. She couldn't recall him ever getting one wrong. Funny that she was the one going into plastics, while he delivered babies. "Seriously? I don't think her lips could handle any more collagen. With wrinkles like that, I'm betting Botox." _

_"Nope. Oh pucker mouth there is obsessed with her lips," He chuckles as the woman dabs more gloss on, as though to prove his point. He nods in the direction of a slender blond wearing a black pants suit. There was an air of coldness about her. "Now she is here for Botox." _

_Frowning, Izzie watches the woman. There wasn't a wrinkle anywhere. Not on her clothes, not on her face. It was as though she was frozen. The woman looks up from the laptop she is typing on, their eyes meet for a split second. "Yeah. I guess you're right," Izzie murmurs, looking away. _

She had become that woman. The frozen woman who didn't wrinkle. She raises a hand to her smooth forehead. Perhaps she should just skip the injections, let herself go. Who was she trying to impress anyways? There was no one. There hadn't been in a long time. Rolling onto her side, she closes her eyes, thinking of the last time someone had touched her...

_It had been years since she had seen him. The last day of their residency at Seattle Grace. He had taken a partnership offer from one of his old proffessors. Amanda hadn't been very keen on the idea of moving to Iowa, but she loved him and would go where he went. There had been no exchanging of phone numbers or addresses. There had been no reason to. He was married. Happily married. To a woman who was friends with Addison and Callie, so she knew Izzie's dirty little secret and the real reason Callie had divorced George. To save face, Callie had told everyone her and George had rushed into something, then regretted it. They had all moved on. Callie with a man who worked for her father, George with Olivia. The last she had heard, George was now a proud father to a little boy. She had also heard that Amanda Karev was expecting. A baby girl this time. Their first child had been a boy. Bradley. _

_"Izzie? Izzie Stevens?" _

_The sound of his voice had startled her at first. She had almost dropped the ridiculously small plate full of sweet things she didn't need. She couldn't help it, though. Chocolate was the closest she was getting to an orgasim. It was a slap in the face, to hear that voice, to turn around and see that face. "Alex Karev." she says back softly. He looked the same. _

_"How've you been?" Before she could answer him, his arms were around her, engulfing her in a hug. She closed her eyes, savoring the smell of his cologne. It felt so good, to be in his arms. Even if the hug was brief, ending much sooner than she would have liked. _

_"Oh. I'm fine," she said with a false bravado he must have seen through, given the look of concern that came across his face. "I work for Mercy West. It isn't Seattle Grace, but then, not many hospitals are." _

_He nods, the concern still there. "What about you? How are you?" _

_She shrugs. "I'm me." She looks down at the plate in her hand. Suddenly the desserts didn't appeal to her. Alex would soon start talking about Amanda and their children. She wasn't sure she could handle that. Maybe if she had her own family..._

_"Yeah. You're you." He grins at her, those dimples sending a shiver down her spine. He takes the plate from her hands, sets in on the nearest table. "Take a walk with me? Not sure I can take much more of this play nice shit." _

_She nods, following him out of the crowded confrence room with its buffets and constant chatter. They walked anywhere and nowhere. Talking. There was little said about his wife and children. Just a simple 'they're fine' when she asked. She had felt she should ask. The night sky was full of stars when they finally headed back to the hotel where the confrence was being held. He walked her to the door of her room. He hugged her again, holding her tight, as though he was afraid to let her go. _

_It started as just a kiss. A simple brushing of her lips across his. Just to see if that electricity was there. The moment her lips touched his, it was as though a thousand fireworks had gone off. Alex was the one to deepen it. His mouth fully covering her's. The hands that were holding her waist moved up, sliding along her rib cage. She whimpers a bit when they graze the underside of her breasts. Her tongue sweeps into his mouth as her arms wind up around his neck. _

_A s suddenly as he started it, he pulled back. There was a look of horror in his eyes. "Oh God..I..I'm sorry." The words trip off his tongue. He stares at her a moment longer, fear etched on his feature. "I..I have to go..." _

_Izzie doesn't wait for him to leave. She simply unlocks her door with the card the hotel clerk had given her. Shutting the door, she leans against it, her heart pounding. He was married. Alex was married. The soft knock startles her. Taking a deep breath, she moves away from the door. Twisting the knob, she lets the breath out. _

_The moment she opens the door, his mouth covered her's again. He kicks the door shut behind him, pulling her against him. His fingers disappear in her mass of golden curls. She closes her eyes as his mouth trails down her throat. It was wrong. Yet, it couldn't be wrong, not when it felt so right. His hands cupped her ass, pressing her closer. They move downward, toward the hem of her black sheath. A small moan escapes her mouth when his fingers drag her panties down. Her fingers fumble with the buckle of his belt, then with the button and zipper of his slacks. _

_The door was hard and cold, though she only thought that for a moment. All reason and sensation fled when he pressed himself into her. She could feel his thickness stretching her. She tightens her arms around his neck, moaning as he fully thrusts into her. It didn't matter that the door knob was digging into the back of one of her legs. All that mattered was Alex was making love to her. _

_'No,' a small voice of reason taunts. 'He makes love to his wife. You are just the dirty whore he's fucking.' A tear slips down her cheek. Alex was married. With children. She didn't mean for the sob to come out. It did, though. Soon, while he was thrusting into her, her whole body was wracking with sobs. The agony of realizing she had slept with another married man didn't keep her from crying out in release. _

_When Alex lets her legs drop, Izzie slides to the floor, sobbing. She buries her face in her hands, drawing her knees up to her chest. "Izzie," he says softly, kneeling in front of her. His fingers wrap around her wrists, pulling her hands away. She looks up at him, her eye make up running down her face. "Don't cry, Iz. Please don't cry." He pulls her into his arms, holding her tight. She feels him bury his face in her neck. _

_Slowly, she raises her arms, to push herself away from him. Instead, she wraps them around him..._

Her eyes fly open. She gulps. That had been the begining, far from the last time Alex had touched her.. Not for the first time, she wonders if Amanda ever knew. If she had ever figured out why Alex took all the West Coast confrences or business trips. Most likely not, Amanda loved Alex. Women in love never wanted to see those things.

The room suddenly seemed to be suffacting her. Throwing back the covers, her lower lip trembles. It had been hard, standing at the edge of the cemetary. She should have been the one standing at the head of his grave. She was the woman he loved. He had told her that over and over again. Amanda had needed him though. She had no one.

Isobel frowns. Who did she have? No one. What had been the diffrence between Amanda and her? A piece of paper. A stupid piece of paper. Except, that paper had meant something to Alex. For better or worse, he had stayed. Her frown deepens. Dr. Hennessy had asked her if she loved him. She had answered in a vague callus way. That was how use to covering it up she was. She had loved him. More than anything else, she had loved Alex. A tear slips down her cheek as the wind rattles the glass panes of the windows. It was the memories. She would blame her unease on the memories. And that damn journal.


	7. So It Begins

-1It was starting to rain. A slight drizzle that coated the world in gray and matched the inner turmoil stirring deep within. There had been no rest last night. Just a haunting of memories and an ache that would not cease. The dawn had come with a resigned decision. Perhaps Dr. Hennessy was right. There was much in her life that she regretted. Alex being the least of all. It was just the idea of putting those regrets onto paper. It was like stripping naked during rush hour traffic and just standing there, letting the world see every curve, every bump, every flaw. At one time, that wouldn't have bothered her.

Isobel sits on the edge of her bed, staring toward the cherry wood secretary that sat in the corner of her bedroom. The damn journal lay there, taunting her. This was how it had been since dawn had come. Her sitting there, trying to conjure up enough bravery to bare her soul.

"Honestly, Isobel," she mutters. "Stop being so dramatic. Just do it already." Despite the stern self lecture she still didn't move. It was as though her body was frozen to the edge of that bed. Staring at the journal, hating that she was letting a book control her. "Just do it!" With a determination she had thought dead, she pushes herself off the bed, turning to smooth the spread free of wrinkles.

Taking a deep breath, she stands over the secretary, staring down at the journal. To look at it, one would think it was just a lovely book. Bound in soft brown leather. The pages made of linen. Letting the breath out, she lowers her body to the Chippendale inspired chair that was in front of her desk. With shaking hands, she opens the journal.

A tingle starts in the tip of her fingers, then travels up her arm, spreading over her entire body. It left her head feeling as though she had spun around in circles the way a small child would, arm spread open. It was an odd and confusing feeling. One she tried to shake, but couldn't. Trying to ignore the light headed feeling, she sorts through her collection of pens. The one she pulls out is old, a comfortable companion she had borrowed from Alex but never returned. Whenever something of personal importance needed to be written, it was the pen she chose.

_While I feel that this exercise is of no use to me, I am willing to show my cooperation by attempting to do as you have asked. There are many regrets in my life. So many more than there are pages in this journal. The one that stays closest to my heart is Hannah. I don't believe I have ever mentioned her to you. She is a part of my past that I like to keep to myself. I suppose it is because the pain is still so raw after all this time. _

_She is forty now. With a husband and family. Her husband's name is Richard, and they have two beautiful daughters. Jillian is seventeen and Rachel is twelve. She's a teacher. Teaches the first grade. Her students love her. I know all this because I hired a private investigater some years ago. I keep track of her and her family through him. They don't live very far. A mere seven hour drive to Oregon. _

_I suppose you are wondering who Hannah is and why she is the regret closest to my heart. She is my daughter. I was only fifeteen when I found out I was pregnant with her. Her father is not important. He was just some boy I knew who said all the right things and made my body feel things it had never felt before. There was no love involved. It had been about sex. Perhaps if love had been involved I would have been more inclined to be selfish. As it was, I knew that I had no life to offer her outside the one fate had given me. I wanted better for her, so I made the choice to give her up for adoption. The couple I chose was nice. They had money. Or at least it seemed like they had money compared to a kid who lived in a two bedroom trailer that had been assembled in 1985. Looking back, they were merely middle class. The deal was for them to keep in touch with me. They did for a while. Around the time I started college, the pictures and letters stopped. It hurt at first, but then I figured it was for the best. _

_I didn't start thinking about looking for her until I realized I was never going to be a mother. I suppose I wanted to fill that void in some way. So, I looked for Hannah. While I had nothing to do with the person she became, I am quite proud of her. That pride doesn't stop me from wondering what she would have been like had I kept her…_

The pen falls from her hand as the light headedness takes control. Closing her eyes, she tries to ignore the way the room was spinning, shifting….

A/N I am sorry that it has taken me so long to update this fic. Please R/R.


	8. Part Two: Tis Better To Give

-1

"_Giving is a necessity sometimes…more urgent, indeed, than having"_

_Margaret Lee Runbeck_


End file.
